Hear Me, Book 1
by qwanderer
Summary: Tony Stark's brain is considered, and Loki's, as opposed to typical people, as well as the nature of communication. A series of 9 short stories pondering what we learn during MCU Phase 2. Relationships between Bruce and Tony, Tony and Rhodey, and a little bit Tony and Loki are explored. Spoilers for Cap 2 and Thor 2. Not sure if there's going to be more of this continuity or not.
1. The Velocity of Language

**The Velocity of Language**

_Measured Words, part 1 - Tony can't slow down enough to express himself in words. It makes letting people close a real pain in the ass. It makes interacting with people at all a real pain in the ass, actually._

Tony has a policy.

If people don't understand him when he's talking, they can talk to someone else, someone who can use smaller words. He can't afford to slow down, to delay his cognitive processes enough to put things on their level.

He's got things to do.

There's a whole risk/benefit process going on, every time he stops to pay attention to a conversation with someone, and it usually only wins his attention if he really needs to convince someone of something and Pepper isn't immediately available or doesn't understand the technicalities involved.

Pepper's used to it by now, and to a certain extent they've stopped trying to get each other to understand why a certain thing is necessary and just basically use opposing levels of emotional manipulation to negotiate for what actually gets done and what gets ignored in favor of things that are apparently more important.

It's a system that works for them. Maybe it's not perfect, but it works.

Mostly.

Well.

It works an acceptable percentage of the time, since Tony has never found a better solution for dealing with the dense syrup that is the minds of regular people.

* * *

><p>The minute he meets Dr. Bruce Banner, he's delighted to find that they run at compatible speeds. He can see the man think, see him taking in Tony's words with no confusion or glossed politeness, like everyone else in the room, everyone else in the world.<p>

It's enormously refreshing.

And when he starts actively contributing to the discussion...

Tony is absolutely, totally gone for this guy's brain.

They settle in to work like they were made for each other - literally, it's like working with Jarvis, who actually _was._ Just a word or two, private codes or references, Bruce seems to catch all or most of it with little prompting, all while keeping up the work, following the science and the math (well, leading, actually, and that's even rarer in someone who doesn't bug the hell out of Tony, like Reed Richards). Tony's sinking in like he would in his own workshop, but there's only so much they can do while the algorithm's running, and curiosity gets the better of Tony and he turns his attention to the phenomenon that is Banner's physical transformation and what exactly the parameters are on that.

Bruce yelps, but he doesn't have any superhuman reactions, as far as Tony can see. The questions spill out of his mouth, as they do when he's relaxed and curious.

Unfortunately there's a Captain America in the wings, waiting to tell him what he can and can't do when it's been clear to Tony for a while now that he's the only one qualified to be responsible for the complex and wide-ranging consequences of his own actions.

Like Tony doesn't know that the life of everyone on this ridiculous flying island is in his hands. The lives of everyone in the world are always in his hands. Leaving them to other people just isn't good enough, but he's given up trying to explain things like that to people.

It's the implications about Bruce that bother him more. "No offense" notwithstanding.

Banner replies before Tony can.

"It's all right, I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle... pointy things."

It's incredible how much is buried in those few simple words. The first part is obviously supposed to sound like a reply to Rogers's apology, but the rest of the sentence turns it into something else. A reassurance (or defiant assertion) to Rogers that Tony's not going to cause any disasters. Maybe even a reassurance to Tony that he can handle the occasional insensitive prod at his own capacity for destruction.

The subtlety here is incredible and Tony doesn't know how the guy can handle being that... inoffensive all the time. Especially when he might be - Tony grudgingly admits to himself, probably is - the smartest guy in the room.

Still, he could stand to speak up for himself in clearer terms.

Tony tells Bruce he needs to strut.

Steve tells him he needs to focus, and Tony is hard-pressed not to tell him "Well then go away and _let_ me focus," because he had been so close to achieving scientific nirvana with his new lab buddy. But he does list some of the other factors that are keeping him from having a solution right-damn-now, thank you very much, like the obvious fact that Fury's not being entirely open with the information he has.

Steve doesn't see it. Tony is close to one of his "I'm done talking to dumbasses" moments, so he prods Bruce to see if the physicist has the patience this obviously needs.

Bruce would rather stay out of it, but once Steve has expressed interest in hearing his input, he sighs and explains it patiently, step-by-step, parsing out Loki's words and their implications, how it connects to energy research and the Tesseract.

Tony doesn't know how he does it. Tony is forty steps past that realization and plotting how to keep whatever dumbass thing SHIELD is probably doing from destroying the world. And Bruce is following his logic with every comment, Tony snarking like it's blindingly obvious and Bruce giving that little smile that says he agrees.

Steve sounds like he wants to pick a fight more than he wants to learn from the great masters before him, but Bruce says something both placating and convincing, and the Captain finally, finally leaves.

So much better.

They work on the screens, ideas flying back and forth with gestures, and they talk simultaneously and it's probably the easiest it's ever been for Tony to actually talk to someone with words because he feels like there's less expectation because the other levels are all in use and they have to be working together so there's an established connection on ground he knows and neither of them is focusing entirely on the scary feelings shit.

Bruce starts, answering Tony's curiosity with the revelation that being the Hulk feels raw, exposed, terrifying. Tony opens up in response, just a little, letting Bruce know how he feels sometimes about what he's become, and maybe why.

It's not something he really... talks about. Not usually.

* * *

><p>Apparently everyone is in their lab now, and tension is rising, which annoys Stark, and so does the fact that they're accusing him of nonsensical hypotheticals, but he doesn't really get angry until they insult Banner's control. Because if there's anything Tony knows right now, it's that Bruce is a lot more civilized, and fit for human interaction, than most people, himself included.<p>

There's something in the air, something that's making Tony's head ache and making it even more difficult than usual for him to suffer fools. But he and Bruce are a team now, inseperable, and their deep mental rapport is unaffected.

Everyone else in this room is the worst kind of idiot and Tony would like to blast them all into next week. Cap, Cap is telling him he has no right to be called a hero just because he hasn't made the kind of sacrifice that tears you to the bone. Because Tony knows his own value and it lies in being able to find another way.

"Think I would just cut the wire."

"Always a way out."

And Tony's head is full of sarcastic comments, _Yeah I'm hoping there is and you'd better hope so too,_ but he's too busy trying to damn well _think of that way out_ to monitor what he actually says, he knows it's angry and biting and has something to do with what Steve Rogers owes to thinkers, to science, to smartasses, to Starks.

And he just is so done, rubbing his face tiredly, and he's following the conversation with its useless mutterings with half an ear, then Bruce's voice catches his attention. Talking about the cage they made, the one that's obviously an attempt to do away with the Hulk. Bruce knows.

Then he says, "But you can't! I know, I tried."

Time freezes for Tony as he looks at Bruce.

Bruce is what he is because he literally has no other options; he's had to learn to survive as he is, because there is no second choice. No Door #2. Just smile and take it. Because apparently things were bad enough that he's tried that door and found it locked. Tony fixes eyes on Bruce and memories of too-casually flirting with death swarm around him like ghosts and he wills his friend to be okay.

Wills him to know his reason to keep going.

"I moved on, I focused on helping other people."

and Tony just... he gets that. Sometimes that's enough. And in the middle of all this emotional division he and Bruce are just sort of... forged together. To the hilt, to the heart, to the roots.

Because nothing in Tony's life ever works out quite the way it might be expected to.

Then there's an explosion.

Hell.

He needs to fix the engine, and he's going to need help, and it's going to have to be Steve. And he's going to need to walk Steve through it.

_Hell._

And he tries to do it the way Banner does, pace out his words so Steve can understand them, talk while he's thinking, getting better at that. Not good enough, Steve is saying, "speak English!"

So he sighs, and tries again. "See that red lever?"

Because without a doubt, speaking English is the one thing Banner can do so much better than him. Bruce adjusts, folds his words to fit the person, the situation, and Tony doesn't understand how he does it and still maintains that focus, that scope in his own head for the big ideas and big projects.

But he's starting to get it when he talks to Steve about Loki, tries to slow himself down, think in words, and he listens as the words go "with his name plastered" and everything clicks and he says "Son of a bitch."

He found the key. Tony found the key. By damn well slowing down enough to speak English.

Bruce could be on to something here.

He's right. Loki's in his tower. Loki's in his _house._ Standing there like he's the smug bastard that owns it.

Nope. That'd be Tony.

He's gonna try talking. He's gonna try talking to Loki. The suit's not ready and he knows he needs the suit so what he could use here is a little slowing down.

He explains Loki's situation slowly, clearly, thoroughly, and no matter what Loki says, he knows Banner's gonna come and beat Loki up because he understands Banner, he really, really does, and it's the first time since Obie that he's really felt like he could rely on someone untested to be there, to get him, to show up and make sense.

He stalls, he gets his suit, things get intense, and then Banner shows.

He brings in the giant floating armored whale, and he watches as Bruce turns big and green and punches it in the face.

They're all together on the ground now, all protecting each other's backs. As wrong as everything is going, Tony can't help feeling that at this moment, everything is going as it's meant to.

A very momentary feeling, to be sure, and the battle demands his attention, takes it all; he gives himself to the part of the battle assigned to him, keeping things in the battle radius, watching and thinking and darting back and forth like the player in a full-size game of tower defense.

And then there's the nuke.

The fucking nuke.

All the other plans are gone, they're nil, and it's only this, it's simple, really. Get the bomb through the hole in the sky and it doesn't take any more calculations to do it, the calculations are gone and he's got two minutes, maybe, to live and now, of course, all he can think about is all the things he's never managed to say, all the things he wanted people to understand.

Jarvis, of course, can read his mind almost, that's what he was built to do.

"Sir, shall I try Miss Potts?"

And of course he fails, he always, always fails when he tries to do that, tries to slow down and be sincere and communicate something simple. He saves the world at least, he's decent at that, and he closes his eyes expecting to never see that world again.

He wakes up to Hulk roaring in his face, and it's simultaneously the best and most terrifying thing he's ever heard.

Bruce came through, Bruce saved him, caught him out of the sky.

He's back. He's got another chance. And he's got so much new stuff to learn.

There is nothing about Bruce that he does not love.

* * *

><p>After that he makes sure Bruce gets settled into the promised labs before he disappears off to Malibu, to be with Pepper and the company and to build suits, to get the stuff done that he needs to get done, and not at all to hide from the rubble of New York and the tightness it brings to his chest when he remembers That Fucking Nuke.<p>

But after he's gotten his Malibu house destroyed and associated with a whole new set of traumas he can't think of a reason to stay away from the Tower any more, and it's really not so bad once he steps inside and it's remodeled and fresh and clean, and also Bruce is there, and it's like a breath of fresh air talking to him, a sensation Tony had almost forgotten.

And like before, talk about emotions flows out easily overtop of communication about work, and soon everything's just spilling out, he sits down and just tells Bruce everything.

He pours his heart out to Bruce, and then he realizes that Bruce hasn't been catching it, has, in fact, been sleeping soundly next to him the entire time.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It really doesn't, because the fact is that he's talking, Bruce is a person he can talk around in any way, phase, speed he needs to talk in because Bruce is just amazing that way. And he can kind of see the advantage now, because the things he was processing since New York...

They needed slowing down. Because going through them fast just made him panic, flick through possibilities and find doom and terror and panic and panic and panic in increasingly tight spirals.

He needed to talk it through, and Bruce is the only one who that's okay with, the only person who doesn't make it feel like a waste of time.

It works, it works, even when he's asleep, so Tony keeps going, not caring if he puts Bruce to sleep, because if Bruce needs down time, Tony's allowed to need down time too, allowed to need to sit down and untangle the mess that his brain has become, strand by painstaking strand.

He rags on Bruce for sleeping through his story, but tries to convey that he doesn't really mind, just needs the company, needs Bruce's presence, and he's actually glad to see it when Bruce dozes off again.

He's to the part about his parents' funeral when he notices Bruce's eyes on him again.

"And that was about the moment when I stopped caring. Like, really stopped caring. There were crowds and crowds of people there and they all came to talk to me and they just opened their mouths and all I could hear was buzzing. None of them were actually... none of them cared. About me. Except Rhodey, and he had the sense to keep his mouth shut. He's a great guy. Way too good for me, don't know why he hangs around, him or Pepper. We talk at each other, we talk past each other. I don't make sense to people, Bruce, and they don't make sense to me. Kinda got used to that."

The acceptance, the understanding in Bruce's eyes when he catches them is almost too much. He shakes his head, turning away, and keeps rambling.

"If it weren't for Jarvis, I'd have completely self-destructed by now. I built him, pretty much starting then, just took a few years and a few breakthroughs in chip manufacturing before that kind of processing power became really feasible. I built him to be a translator, because, fuck, I can't be the person that people want me to be, someone who talks like them, who can pretend to think it's important whether it's gonna rain or what kind of diet they're on or whatever regular people talk about. I just don't get it. I can't make myself think in those little boxes, Bruce. I just can't. I wanna do what I can to be that guy that people like and trust, I tried, I really did, I've tried till my brain itches, but then an idea hits me and it all just goes up in smoke. And my ideas save people. If I pay proper attention to how they get executed. That's the truth and it does nobody any good to pretend it's not. Can't please everyone. Believe me. I know. I've tried."

That echo of Banner's words on the Helicarrier hangs in the room, in the sudden dead silence. And Bruce hears himself in that, hears how Tony has torn himself apart over the years, tried to be normal, escape from everything he was, all in the service of others, in the service of society at large. How he failed.

Bruce smiles at Tony, warm and understanding. "I'm glad you gave up," he says. "I like the way you are."

Well, that's a good sign.

Tony thinks maybe he's gonna be okay.

Maybe they both will be.


	2. A less arbitrary social fabric

**A less arbitrary social fabric**

_Measured Words, part 2 - Tony has been trying to optimize his own usefulness for a long time now. He's not used to thinking about other people in the same terms._

Bruce learns the language of the keyboards in Tony's private workshop, the ones with numbers and letters and dials and symbols, runes to greek to Mayan, all shortcutting to words or concepts or equations that he uses regularly. He incorporates them into intra-lab text messages and documents, even into his own work; they're the ultimate tool for experimental shorthand. The language allows him to work faster, more efficiently, and it's such an insight into the minds of both Tony and Jarvis.

Because Jarvis definitely has a mind of his own, that's become clear to Bruce.

Jarvis learns when to put on music with a beat, when to pipe through the sound of rain or ocean waves, when to keep silent, all just from little signs that Bruce isn't aware of. Jarvis learns the places and times it's all right to interrupt and where and when Bruce just needs the illusion that he's alone.

He's a comforting presence, and Bruce can see the evidence piling up that the AI does, in fact, live to serve, and is happy whenever Bruce asks him for something, anything. J is a kindred spirit as well, built, at his core, in Tony's image, with the same inatiable hunger for knowledge, and they, all three of them, study each other and delve into each other's workings.

The welcome here is unlike anything Bruce has experienced.

The way Tony just opens up to him and lets the words roll out without expecting anything in return, it's good for Bruce. And Bruce can hear him switching gears, can hear him in everything from his slowest, most stilted apologies and requests for help up to things that come out in the thickest jargon he's ever heard, great leaps in logic and whole concepts and methodologies flying past.

Tony speaks about Tennessee a lot, processing things, things he knows Bruce didn't catch the first time. It is an interesting story, but Tony had caught him at the end of a long day of research the first time.

"I had to talk to _people._ Jarvis was down and I didn't have my tech and it was _awful_. J, don't ever leave me again, mmkay?"

"I shall endeavor not to, Sir," says the AI.

"The Harley kid wasn't bad, though. Pretty smart, except when he was being monumentally obtuse. So, better than average, definitely."

Bruce loves to hear him talk about Harley. Loves kids, really, in his life, however he can get that without putting them in danger.

But he doesn't reach for anything, and that confuses Tony.

Tony still pushes Bruce, on and off, trying to get him to be more expressive, to stand up for himself.

"Wish you'd let loose, Big Guy. You know it's OK, right? I won't judge. Appreciate you at your biggest and greenest."

"I know," says Bruce. He does know. He thinks Tony's a reckless fool for it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't understand, and that doesn't mean he's not grateful.

"Seriously, ask for it and it's yours. Want a team of lab assistants? Your own jet? A custom Starkbot who brings you tea every hour?"

Bruce just looks uncomfortable.

"C'm'on, tell me. There's gotta be something your big green bottled-up heart desires."

Bruce sighs tightly. "You want to know what I need right now? A little space, please!" It isn't loud at all, but it's still forceful, and he turns his back on Tony.

Tony curses inwardly, and he leaves the room, top speed and almost soundless. Harley's litany of annoying, jarring, but oh-so-earnest questions comes back to him.

"Jarvis, buddy, you gotta help me with this, explain this to me." Tony sighs. "I fucked up."

"I will do what I can, Sir," says Jarvis, and brings up the social modeling program. That's expected. What isn't expected is that there's more than one model displayed in the glowing lines.

Tony has modeled his own algorithms before, asked Jarvis to check his math, help him tweak it. The good he can do for the world always takes priority, although Jarvis is always pushing him to care more for himself and less for his work or public image. Afghanistan gave Jarvis a lot of the leverage he uses there, pointing out that Tony needs to be sharp and aware to be sure that the things he makes are being used properly, for the good of humanity and not to its detriment.

So Tony lets his mouth run, tries not to care what anyone thinks of him, because that is an exhausting game he has played before, and the advantages of raising that quotient in general are far outweighed by the efficiency he gains in all other areas by mostly just not caring.

He can't afford a spotless reputation if he's going to meet his potential in the realm of doing actual good. He needs his focus.

So when Jarvis pulls up the initial model he's made for Bruce's algorithms, Tony tilts his head to the side, looking at the utterly alien shape of the thing.

Bruce has not much put toward reputation, either. He's maximized for good productive output, as well, Tony can see that, at least. But the way he goes about it?

There's a consistent trend of avoidance towards situations that (according to his monitored pulse) make him uncomfortable. It takes a lot less energy for Bruce to say something placating and excuse himself politely than it would to endure the reactions to what he's really thinking. He doesn't care whether they're angry or worried or scared, he just doesn't want to be around to catch the backlash of it.

_I'm exposed. Like a nerve. It's a nightmare._

That... hadn't just been about Hulk, had it? Because when you start messing with the amygdala...

Tony hisses an inhale, putting a hand over the lower half of his face.

"Yep," he says. "I fucked up."

* * *

><p>Bruce doesn't see Tony for about three days, after that.<p>

He eventually comes to the conclusion that he's not going to, unless he actively seeks the engineer out. That's sweet, but unnecessary. When Bruce asks where Tony is, Jarvis makes a point of telling him he's welcome in the workshop, both now and as a general rule.

"Thanks, J," says Bruce. "Has he eaten?"

"He might be convinced to break for lunch," is Jarvis's answer, so Bruce makes sandwiches and brings them along.

Tony raises his eyebrows at the offering, when he catches sight of Bruce. "Did J tell you you're welcome? Because I'm not sure the wording was strong enough. Sandwiches get you bonus points."

Bruce just smiles, and hands over one of the plates before sitting down on the other side of the bench Tony is sitting at.

Tony digs into his sandwich, and when he's gotten through the first few bites (his abstract focus always dulls his physical needs until they're brought to his attention), he looks at Bruce with a bit of a pained smile.

"So, I went kinda overboard, and I'm sorry," he says.

"Forget about it," Bruce says, shaking his head. "Maybe you're right," he admits. "Maybe I could stand to let things out a little more."

Tony shakes his head. "And maybe I'm wrong. Jarvis is helping me run the numbers? Your social algorithms are all skewed, like, 90 degrees from mine. You're running a totally different OS. How do we even get along?"

_You do like me, right?_ sort of floats in the air unsaid, waiting for Bruce to catch it.

"I think it's why we do," Bruce answers, smiling small and knowing. "We're like Kevlar warp and weft. We're bulletproof together."

Tony chuckles, and his eyes are suspiciously shiny. "Damn right," he says.

They finish their sandwiches in companionable silence, sliding ideas back and forth across the holographic interface with their free hands.

The numbers are clear. It's not even a question.

Together, they can do so much more good.


	3. The Cat that Walked by Himself

**The Cat that Walked by Himself**

_Measured Words, part 3 - Bruce gets angry at Steve. And for once, Bruce sticks around to speak his mind. For Tony._

"I need to talk to you about Tony," Steve tells Bruce one morning over an early breakfast. "I know the two of you spend a lot of time together. Does he talk to you? I need to know what's going on in his head; I need him to listen to me in battle, but I just can't seem to quite figure out the right way to talk to him."

"Steve, he does listen," Bruce replies. "He respects you a lot. What else do you need?"

"I don't get that," Steve says, frowning. "He just... does things, and I can't see where he's coming from, and he never lets us in on his plans, so we could maybe, I don't know, help him with them? He has to do everything on his own terms, by himself. I'd like to help. I'd like to think he trusts us enough to ask us for help."

"You know, the Hulk pretty much does his own thing in battle too. And you never press me for my issues, on or off the battlefield. Do you press him for him, for the team? Or because you want what you had with Howard? Because that's... really not gonna work out."

"No," Steve says. "This is about Tony. I'm worried about Tony."

"Why is it okay for me to keep my problems to myself, why do I get a pass, and he doesn't? Is it because he's loud? Well, at least he's trying. Maybe you should be pressing me to try as hard as Tony does."

"You need your space," Steve replies. "We all know that."

"Yes, sometimes I do," says Bruce, looking hard at Steve. "And do you know what Tony needs?"

Steve's voice is strained with worry and frustration as he says, "No, because he won't tell me!"

"He tries, Steve!" Bruce replies with matched emphasis. "Okay, okay, let me tell you what Tony needs. He needs your support. He needs you to trust his judgement, because the calls he makes in the heat of battle are always weighed thoroughly, he always sees them as necessary, but he can't always explain why. He needs you to take Jarvis's words as his own and trust their partnership."

Rogers frowns. "Jarvis is a machine, isn't he? If that's Stark's idea of a partnership, he knows even less about teamwork than I thought!"

Bruce shakes his head, bowed low in disappointment. "No. Later, you and I need to have a long talk about AI rights. Jarvis is as much a friend to me as Tony is. But for now, this is about Tony." He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"You think Tony doesn't appreciate being part of this team? Do you know how much trust Tony exhibits by strapping himself into the suit and letting Jarvis have his back? And before you tell me that that doesn't count, have you ever been stranded surrounded by people who don't understand you when you speak, have you ever had to make do with just the most rudimentary of translations before you put your life in the hands of those people?"

"France," says Steve, but Bruce has caught his attention. He's thinking now.

"But someone there could speak both French and English, and I'm betting you stuck close."

"It's not the same," Steve says, frowning in confusion. "Tony has spoken English all his life."

"No," says Bruce again. "Tony's learning, he can imitate the sounds humans make, but Steve, he still can't think in your language, and it would be a waste of time for him to try. His brain works the way it works and he gets a hell of a lot done. And if you think his language and yours aren't all that different, I want you to imagine that the main person you've ever heard speak is Howard Stark, and that you can understand perfectly what he means by everything that comes out of his mouth. From annealing temperatures and their effect on the structures of various alloys, to what qualities and processes make the best cheese or wine. Then tell me that it's easy. Tell me that he should be doing better."

Steve stares at Bruce, blinking as he thinks back to Howard, how the things he said confused a simple guy from Brooklyn.

"Yeah," Bruce says. "And now tell me that you don't understand why Tony comes to Jarvis with his problems first, and me second, even though you're team leader. You think he should connect more to the team, tell us when he's got something on his mind? He wants that too, but he wants someone who will understand."

Bruce takes a breath, lowers his voice to a more moderated level. "Steve, he wants someone who will get him when he says he feels like an illustration of quantum superposition, because his luck has been too good and he thinks if he looks too hard at whether his choices are likely to kill him, he'll break the charmed state of uncertainty he's been living in and it really will kill him. And the kicker is, he's never sure that wouldn't be for the best, so many people see him as dangerous and unstable and maybe they're right. Is that what you'd hear? Because he'd be pouring his heart out for you, saying that. He just wants to know someone hears."

Steve shakes his head, trying to shake off his confusion. "Is all that true? Does he really tell you all that?"

"Do you remember last week, the battle with Doom, when you told him to watch his back, do you remember what he said?"

"Not exactly," Steve admits.

"He said, 'I'm fucking Schroedinger's Cat here, okay, can't watch my tail or I'll stabilize permanently, and no one wants that, am I right?' You were there, Steve. What did you hear?"

Steve sucks in a breath. "I heard him telling me not to cramp his style."

Bruce nods. "I'm good at learning languages," he says. "I've had to be. So trust me when I say English is one thing and Tony Stark English is another, one you do not know."

"Okay," says Steve, after a moment of silence. "Can you help me learn? Just the basics."

Bruce smiles, shakes his head. "There are no basics," he says. "But I'll try."


	4. Got My Back

**Got My Back**

_The Rhodey Files, part 1 - The history of Rhodey and Tony's friendship._

Rhodey was a smart guy, but he'd always known that he couldn't keep up with Tony.

Way back when they met, when Rhodey was in a programming class at MIT and he couldn't afford a tutor and everyone knew Tony was the guy to talk to for programming help, but Rhodey was the only one who was the right combination of not too proud to ask a sixteen-year-old runt for help and actually intelligent enough to benefit from it. Tony got him through that class, and helped with a bunch of others.

Rhodey owed him a lot.

Growing up poor and black in Philly in the early 70's, Rhodey absorbed certain things from a culture dominated by the Black Mafia. You stick to the people who stick to you. You have each other's backs. No one is safe, anywhere, ever, from being shot. And if you owe someone a favor? You don't ever forget it; you pay it back.

All this made James Rhodes uniquely qualified to be Tony Stark's friend.

Tony was popular at MIT, loved to socialize and drink when he wasn't working, loved to charm the pants off his fellow students. Until that first assassination attempt. His more casual acquaintances drifted away first, uncomfortable with the risks that, it had become clear, came with being near Tony. The rest were driven away by Tony's changed personality, his anger, his volatility, the distance he'd started cultivating between himself and the rest of the world.

It was clear to Rhodey that he had to stick it out. The danger wasn't even a factor. He owed Tony. There was no one else. So he had Tony's back.

Once Tony figured out that Rhodey wasn't going anywhere, he stuck to his friend like glue. It was pretty gratifying for Rhodey to see, to know he was the only person who Tony Stark really trusted.

They'd had each other's backs ever since, working together to get the best weapons out to America's troops. Because the military had become Rhodey's new gang; every single man and woman in the service, they had each other's backs, and the uniforms were their colors. Because that was how Rhodey worked.

Maybe Tony wasn't the most professional guy, maybe he wasn't the most dependable about some things, but that was just Tony and Rhodey accepted that he wasn't gonna be able to change that, especially since he'd figured out that Stark worked better when left to his own devices, and the military ended up getting more out of that than they would have out of his promptness or politeness.

And when Tony disappeared, Rhodes never stopped searching the desert, because that was how Rhodey worked.

Rhodey had worked this way all his life. He'd been all about loyalty, all about being stronger together than alone. So when Tony tried to back out of all the support he'd been providing for the military, Rhodey... took it badly.

Tony stark was turning his back on all those people whose lives were intertwined with Rhodey's, and therefore Tony's. Tony Stark was leaving them all more vulnerable than they had to be. And Rhodey couldn't stand there and listen to him make excuses. Tony was clearly the expert on mechanics, but this was morals. It was usually clear to Rhodey what was right, and Tony pretty much always agreed, when he wasn't trivializing and making trouble for attention. And if that was what this was?

"What you need is time," Rhodey told his best friend, "to get your mind right."

It took a long time for Rhodey to really get that this was Tony growing up and learning to choose his own right and wrong. That before, Tony had only had ties to one person, Rhodey, and had watched as Rhodes climbed the ranks by extending that same mutual trust to a whole organization. That Tony had, in his own special way, decided to go big or go home, and had taken in trust the whole of every human life on Earth.

That Tony had asked for Rhodey's trust in something important for once, and Rhodey had failed to extend it.

It took him a lot longer than it should have. Not even holding the arc reactor in his hand and watching Tony replace the corroded palladium cartridge, not even that fully seated it in his mind. He was still too busy urging Tony to trust him, to let him help. The thing between them, it had broken, and it had never quite healed right. Their ideas of what trust meant were too different, even after all the time they'd known each other.

But they would always, always, always have each other's backs. As best they knew how, no matter what.


	5. Lockdown

**Lockdown**

_The Rhodey Files, part 2 - Tony almost gets himself killed and Rhodey is about ready to tear him a new one for it. But with the Avengers around, things are changing._

Rhodey sat down at Tony's bedside where he was recovering from the injuries he'd gotten in the most recent battle. Bruce and Steve were there too, and he looked at them sort of suspiciously. He'd been off coordinating Air Force aspects of the fight, and hadn't been around when Tony fell out of the sky, but they had, and Rhodey wasn't sure yet who he was going to have to yell at.

"What happened?" he asked the room in general.

Bruce joined him in curious silence; Rhodey knew from his file that if Hulk had been involved, he didn't yet know. Memory didn't usually cross over between the two forms. Rhodey knew they'd been working together but he was surprised at the amount of exhausted worry on the doctor's face. He knew Tony didn't make friends easily. But then he realized - indestructible. Well, that would help.

He turned to Captain Rogers.

"Suit power cut out completely in midair," Rogers said. "He only fell a few stories, but he'd already taken a couple of good hits, and we couldn't get the suit off him to treat his injuries. We ended up having to take him back to the tower and let Jarvis take it off him, and by then Tony'd lost a lot of blood."

"What the hell went so wrong with the armor that you couldn't get it off?" Rhodey asked, anger building, moving to settle on Tony. "How does that even happen?"

"Actually things went right," Tony argued. "Well, sort of. Lockdown triggered perfectly. Not the ideal conditions for a test, I'll admit, but hey, I'm here, the day was saved, it's all good, right?"

Rhodey sputtered a little before the words arranged themselves in his mouth. "You did that to yourself... on purpose? No, Tony. Not a good plan."

"Best one I had."

"Dropping out of the sky encased in a gold brick? Tony, I don't see how that's _ever_ gonna be a good idea. You can't do shit like this." He turned to the other two. "Come on, back me up here, guys."

Steve gave a small shake of his head. "Tony knows the suits, I don't. Suit stuff, I leave to him."

Rhodey narrowed his eyes at Rogers. "Yeah, armor is what Tony does. But you're his C. O. If you don't get the tech stuff, can't understand the strengths and weaknesses of the piece of equipment that's protecting my _best friend_, maybe he shouldn't be under your command, _Captain_."

Captain America looked supremely uncomfortable. "That's not quite how the Avengers work," he insisted. "I'm not their superior. Each of them is the best in the world at something, and my job is to make it less likely that they'll get in each other's way."

"So it's _not_ your job to watch Tony's back and make sure he doesn't kill himself?"

"I do my best to do that too," Steve answered.

"Looks to me like it's not good enough," Rhodey said, jaw tightening, body tensing like a cat preparing to pounce.

"Hey," interrupted Bruce. "Rhodes. I have a question."

Rhodey turned to face the quiet scientist, making himself relax fractionally, not wanting to upset the man.

"How much do you understand about the armor? How much do you really get it?" Coming from the almost timid figure, it didn't sound confrontational - it spoke more of genuine curiosity, although the words made it clear that he was driving towards a point.

"I know the basics," Rhodey answered defensively. "I fly one of those things often enough to get its advantages and what it can take."

Tony made a face, a little cringe to it. "You kinda don't," he said. "And yours get the little upgrades, basic stuff, but Iron Man's never quite the same after I fix it up. Honestly, nobody's gonna be able to keep up with that."

"At least I try!" Rhodes shot back.

"So do I," Steve said matter-of-factly. "But in my experience, it's when you start thinking you know enough that tech really gets you in trouble."

Bruce's only response was a slightly wry smile of agreement.

Rhodey shook his head, despairing at the inability of these people to watch his friend's back.

"Rhodey," Tony said from the bed, beckoning a little, and he had this tight frown - knowing him, Rhodes wondered how much was from the pain and how much from some impending sincerity. So Rhodey listened close.

"Hey, it's my call, all right? Rather be bleeding out in that useless brick than watching it get used against my team from the inside. You with me on that?"

The shitstorm that was the Expo flashed behind Rhodey's eyes. "They were trying to hack the armor," he concluded with his own worried frown. "Yeah, I get why you'd wanna avoid that. It's terrifying." Looking through War Machine's HUD as it targeted Tony was a moment that would haunt him for a long time to come.

"And it would be irresponsible of me to let that happen," Tony continued. "They can't get the armor."

Rhodey did not want to admit that Tony was right, that these weapons were too powerful to get into the wrong hands, even at the cost of a life - not if that life was going to be Tony's.

"There had to be another way. You've always been an idiot," he told Tony. "But exactly when did you become a self-sacrificing one?" And he hid the grief at his conclusion with a small laugh.

Steve looked uncomfortable. "That might be partially my fault," he admitted.

"Yeah, Cap," said Tony, rolling his eyes. "Real irresponsible of you to try to teach me the fine art of being a hero."

"Actually it kind of was," Steve answered. Tony shook his head in denial.

"It's a balance," Bruce said from his corner. "And we're both trying to find it together. Right, Tony?"

There was a weight to those words that Rhodey could hear, but didn't understand. He watched Dr. Banner now.

"Yeah, yeah, we gotta optimize for greatest positive impact, possible future potential is almost always worth more, I know the drill, Big Guy. Not giving up on you yet. And you're sticking with me, right?"

Bruce nodded, smiling, satisfied and yet strained, and Rhodey wasn't sure what it all meant, but he knew he felt better about Tony's chances with this guy around.

Tony and Rhodey had been thrown together and they'd stuck, but these two... well, Rhodey thought Bruce might really understand Tony better than he ever had. Rhodey had always taken care of Tony, been the older brother he sorely needed. But when Bruce spoke to him... Tony's eyes were full of determination and concern, and Rhodey got that Tony listened to Bruce because somehow Bruce had gotten Tony to want to take care of _him._

They really did have each other's backs, without being in a clear hierarchy. Rhodey was maybe too used to being part of a chain of command to ever really get how that worked. But it did.

He sighed. "All right, all right," he said. "I don't get it. But clearly you've got your own way of doing things. I still reserve the right to yell at Tony when he almost gets himself killed."

"Oh, you're welcome to," said Bruce with a smile, somehow encompassing both grim and gleeful humor. "Just don't expect me to join in. I'm not all that big on yelling."

"Yeah, your style is more ganging up with Jarvis and leaving snarky little notes in all my suit upgrade files," Tony said with mock annoyance.

"Hey, those were genuine suggestions," the doctor answered innocently. "It's not my fault if you can't figure out how to implement them."

Rhodey recognized the spark in Tony's eye that happened when someone presented him with a real challenge. Yep, Banner was good for him. Especially if those challenges were about ways to make the suit safer, keep Tony out of the kind of trouble he'd been in today.

And now they were talking about some kind of hardwired biometric system, and Rhodey could almost follow the engineering side of things - he did know some things from his MIT classes and being a hardware specialist in the Air Force, and from what he understood, Bruce was more of a casual tinkerer than an actual trained engineer - but the biology, radiology, math and programming were well outside his areas of expertise.

Steve raised his eyebrows at him as if to say 'you getting any of that?'

Rhodey shook his head. He'd have to concede defeat, here.

He'd always have Tony's back, if the guy needed him. But Rhodey was getting that he didn't always need all the big-brothering Rhodes had been doing, unasked, for years. That there were other ways to watch out for Tony Stark, that this team was good for him too. Maybe they could teach him something about his oldest friend, after all.

"They really get each other, don't they?" he asked the Captain.

Steve smiled. "Yeah. Bruce has been giving me lessons on Tonyspeak, but I've mostly resigned myself to missing half of everything he says. The way Bruce describes it - it's like poetry. Dense with meaning. Makes me wonder how they survived apart."

"Barely," Rhodey said with a twist of his lips. Then he looked thoughtfully at the two scientists. "Maybe I'll ask for some pointers, too."

"It helps," Steve said earnestly. "Tony's learned to be a fighter but he's the farthest thing from a soldier. None of the Avengers are. I can't treat them like I did my old team."

Rhodey nodded. "Thanks, Cap," he said. "Take care of 'im, all right?"

"Will do," answered Steve.

Rhodey walked out, returning to his world of rank and file and leaving Tony to his new team, an impossible combination of exceptional people who were each the authority on their own abilities and how they could best be put to use. It was different.

He'd always wanted to be part of a team of heroes, but he wasn't sure, now, that he was quite meant to be a superhero.


	6. The Arcane, The Divine and the Utterly S

**The Arcane, The Divine, and the Utterly Screwed Up**

_The Rhodey Files, part 3 - The thing about technology is that the more complicated it is, the easier it is to turn it against its user. Unless that user knows it down to its last bit. The implications of that can be difficult to grasp, and even more difficult to deal with._

Rhodey was a team player, always had been. So he was never quite comfortable with what Iron Man was, how he went about things, what he represented.

The moment he saw Tony risk his life to make sure that jet pilot's chute opened, he knew that he might not get it but he had to give it a chance.

It wasn't easy, but Rhodey slowly got accustomed to Tony's brand new personal code.

But he still didn't truly understand it.

* * *

><p>After the Mandarin, there were some things Rhodey wanted to know but didn't know exactly how to ask, after the Lockdown incident, Rhodey decided that, one way or another, he needed to have a talk with Jarvis.<p>

"So, Jarvis, the suits, you can actually fly them," he started.

"When necessary," Jarvis answered.

"So there's obviously not some kind of... _physical requirement_ to have Tony in the suits or control equipment when they're flying. So what is this _coded only to him_ bullshit about?"

"We thought you might find it disconcerting to be inside one of the suits while I was controlling it, without proper warning," the AI answered. "Especially after the incident at the Expo."

"Wait, so you're saying you would have been the one in control, even with a manual operator in the suit?" Rhodey said, eyes wide. "Tony trusts you to do that?"

"Tony built me," Jarvis said simply. "He wrote every word of my code. He can trust me absolutely."

"But you're..." Rhodey trailed off. "I watched you fly the armors when we went up against the Extremis subjects. Reactions, decision making, it was more advanced than anything I've ever seen out of an AI. You're not just a program, Jarvis. You're a person. Aren't you? You're more than what Tony wrote you to be."

"Tony wrote me to be a person," the AI answered, and it was simple, with a tone straightforward and yet imbued with soft awe, and Rhodey was clearly asea in a world he didn't understand.

But what it came down to was obvious.

"You're a person Tony trusts more than he trusts me," Rhodey concluded with a self-mocking chuckle. "Must be flubbing the best friend thing pretty badly, then."

Jarvis paused for a long moment, such a human affectation, something he obviously hadn't picked up from Tony. "While that may be true from some perspectives," the AI said at last, "I would submit, rather, that it is his own technology that he does not trust. I know it with a depth second only to his, and I watch over it when he cannot, to ensure that it is not turned against us. Not even he is capable of the vigilance necessary to do it himself."

Rhodey nodded somewhat reluctantly. "And you 'watch over' the War Machine armor the same way?"

"I track its activity," Jarvis answered. "But since the first software rebuild by Hammertech, I have no backdoor into its systems. If I had, it would never have been turned."

"It can't be locked down, the way Tony's new suit can be? And you two didn't change that when you wiped the system after AIM played with it?"

"The War Machine armor retains the same basic kinetic control system that it had when it was first encoded to you," Jarvis answered. "We felt consistency would work in your favor."

Rhodey nodded again as his suspicions about that first fight in the suit were confirmed. "So basically I'm driving stick," he concluded, "and no child locks, while he's got all the bells and whistles, including emergency copilot. So tell me why you couldn't fly the thing back, or at least get it open, after the threat had been dealt with."

"The lockdown protocol is only enacted if my connection with the suit software has been compromised," Jarvis answered, "and the only way to reverse it is a complete wipe and reinstall of the entire system. It is not done lightly, and it is necessarily difficult to reverse without complex equipment and protocols brought to bear."

"I'm getting the sense that this is still part of the suit," Rhodey said. "You wanna explain to me why it has to be that way? 'Cause I gotta tell you, I don't like it."

"I resent its necessity, but I agree with it," the AI said.

"He almost _died,_" Rhodey said vehemently. "And you're still letting him put this kill switch in the suit?"

"I have no choice," Jarvis answered. "The alternative is unthinkable."

"Really? 'Cause I've been there. Looking through the crosshairs at Tony. Yeah, it sucks, but it's better than being dead."

"In your case, perhaps. Mr. Stark has convinced me that this is not the case for him. And, while I do what I can to preserve his life, stopping such incursions takes priority. He will not be made to watch his technology kill his friends. If I let that happen, I do not believe Sir could live with himself. It would kill him, more surely and much less cleanly than a blade. You have proven more resilient, and this is why Sir trusts you with the armor."

"He thinks I can take it," Rhodey mused. "And that he can't."

"Just so," Jarvis answered. "And I believe it as well. Once Mr. Stark has willingly assumed responsibility for something, he does not take it lightly."

"He's not weak," Rhodey argued. "He's survived a lot. He's probably tough as I am."

"I believe our understanding of what constitutes 'strength' is irreconcilably different," the AI replied.

Rhodey really didn't know how to respond to that. "Yeah, maybe," he said. "Listen, I'm not done with this. We're gonna revisit this subject later, okay? But I really am here to see Tony."

"As you wish," Jarvis replied. "He is in his workshop."

So Rhodey went.

Tony didn't register his presence right away, but when he did, he grinned at his friend. "Hey, Champ Bear. Just the guy I was looking for. You gotta help me figure out what the right play is here."

There was no way Rhodey was admitting to knowing that reference, even if it was a very clever way to refer to the Iron Patriot repaint. "What's the problem, Tony?" he asked, turning his attention to the displays, which seemed to be showing a 3D view of the Helicarrier.

"So you know how I got the extra up-close-and-personal tour of the insides of these turbines," Tony said, gesturing at the engines. "Well, I really don't wanna have to do that again. So I was brainstorming for ideas to make them better. And I've got a doozy right here."

"Of course you do," Rhodey said, rolling his eyes. "So what's the problem?" he repeated.

"It's large-scale repulsor tech," said Tony, eyes narrowing in thought as he looked at the model. "Not sure I wanna give that one away."

"It's not really a weapon, though, is it?" Rhodey asked. "And you've been pretty generous about the large-scale arc reactors, which you really didn't have to be. I can understand how you'd be... pretty attached to that one."

"Yeah, and repulsor tech is already out there as part of the Jericho line," and Tony winced at the association, "but this application is huge, and I had to get past some major obstacles to even scale it up enough to provide lift for some of the bigger ships in the armada. No one's gonna be able to reproduce this anytime soon, not without the blueprints."

"Well, we trust SHIELD, right?" Rhodey said. "Fighting the good fight right beside us. And they could really use this. Not only is it more durable than their current turbine system, but it's a lot more efficient. Refueling that thing's gotta be a beast."

"No question about that," Tony said, a bright, excited expression flitting across his face. "This is at the top of their Christmas list. Now I've just gotta decide if they've been good girls and boys."

"You don't trust SHIELD."

Tony gave a little ambiguous wiggle of his hand. "They're not terrible, for a faceless government organization that makes WMDs, messes with things they don't understand and occasionally attempts to nuke Manhattan. Seven out of ten stars on all the trustworthy-government-bodies ratings sites. Better than the NSA. But there's something bugging me. Holes in the story. Things that aren't in their files, and should be. Think someone's covering their tracks."

"But nothing concrete?" Rhodey said. "I mean, yeah, you've definitely got reason to be paranoid there. But the agents I've met, I think they're on the level, just trying to save the world, same as us. And I think if you can do something to make them safer, without compromising your new principles? Then yeah, you should."

Tony examined him, testing the conviction behind his answer. Then the engineer nodded. "Done deal. Plans for kickass new helicarrier engines wrapped up and sent. Hope they get a kick out of that."

Rhodey appreciated that he was still the person who Tony came to with this stuff, even with all their disagreements over the concept of cooperation.

* * *

><p>Things were pretty quiet for a while after that, for a superhero headquarters in Manhattan, at least.<p>

Thor had gone back to space after the battle of Manhattan and hadn't been seen there since, Clint was on a long-term mission, and Steve and Natasha had been put on semipermanent assignment to D. C. for the moment, so Avengers Tower, despite its nifty new signage, wasn't much more of a home base for the team than it had been before. At least Bruce was still here; at least Rhodey and Pepper were around now and then when they weren't busy doing their demanding jobs.

Tony started talking about how maybe it was time to finally get that surgery over with, the one he'd told Pepper he was going to get after the Mandarin incident, once he was no longer so paralyzed about the thought of being unable to get into one of his suits and fight, and could actually think over the possibilities and mechanics with a clear head.

He worked with Bruce to come up with the materials they'd need to replace the missing cartilage and bone of his sternum and ribs, and to create the selective magnetic tools that would be needed to safely remove the remaining shrapnel. He talked with the surgeons at length and managed not to hyperventilate about how vulnerable he was going to be.

It went off pretty much without a hitch, Bruce and Jarvis staying close by and keeping their sharp, expert, watchful eyes on the doctors, Rhodey and Pepper just waiting, side by side, for news. And now Tony was home at the tower, recovering, complaining about not being allowed to work, and bothering the heck out of Pepper and Rhodey whenever they were visiting. He treated Bruce to the same litany of complaints and restless muttering, but Bruce didn't seem to mind. He'd sigh, and he'd slump, but he'd stay and respond and keep Tony distracted for hours on end, chatting while he read journal articles or did Sudoku on his phone.

Rhodey was there listening to the two of them argue about the feasibility of some kind of Tesseract-based teleportation device when Jarvis broke in: "Sirs, you may want to draw your attention to the television."

There was something going on in D. C.; apparently SHIELD was running a manhunt for Steve Rogers, which made no sense, and fighting had broken out at many of SHIELD's facilities (Jarvis was compiling information from his own sources and providing a more accurate and detailed scroll of updates across the bottom of the screen) including the Capital, where three brand-new repulsor-lifted helicarriers were surrounded by combat aircrafts and agents with guns.

Tony really wasn't supposed to get out of bed yet, and it was killing him to watch the chaos and not do something to help, but Bruce was having it even worse; watching good people kill each other was threatening to turn him green, and that would do no good, not here, not now, when there was no way to tell the good guys from the bad guys from the civilians. Bruce excused himself with a half-strangled phrase, and left the room, seeking calm and distraction.

Rhodey had to stay, now, because if he left, Tony almost certainly would, too.

"Are those my repulsor engines? Those are my repulsor engines. And now Cap is going up against those carriers with next to no backup. This is exactly why I don't _do_ stuff like that anymore."

Tony got increasingly restless as they watched, and the fighting wasn't settling down; whatever was happening, there was going to be a long damn list of casualties at the end of it.

After one of Steve's more reckless moves, Tony went to sit up. Rhodey put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Let me up," he commanded Rhodey. "I can't just sit here and watch this happen. They can't use my stuff for this. I have to go get it back."

"The world's gonna get through this, all right, Tony? And I know you. You're a hero. You're gonna help. Give what you can to help people rebuild. But for right now? You need to heal."

Rhodey watched with concern as all those signs of panic took over Tony's features, the ones Rhodes had thought he'd got a handle on after the Mandarin incident.

"Rhodey, I can't, I can't _give anything away_ any more, okay? Not after this. I cant be responsible for _any more_ of this... shit. Shit. No, okay, I'm done, but it keeps _happening,_ and now I'm thinking, what if I'd never come back? From Afghanistan, from the portal, from the lockdown. At least this wouldn't keep happening. No more of this, Rhodey. I can't take any more. People keep trying to tell me about responsibility, you keep trying to tell me about responsibility, it's heavy. Please. I just want to put it down."

Rhodey sat there miserably and wished Bruce had been able to stay. Because Rhodey was not equipped to deal with this side of Tony. Didn't understand why he was breaking. Rhodey thought Jarvis had probably been right about strength.

"This is not on you," Rhodey told him as firmly as he could. "None of this is your _responsibility,_ okay? I talked you into sharing the large-scale repulsor tech. This isn't something anyone could have predicted."

The bitter smile that got him wasn't really an improvement. "Okay, I know I'm not that great with the whole 'being accountable' thing, but even I know the 'my friend told me it was okay' excuse is not gonna fly here."

"Tony, you can't live your life like that," Rhodey said, shaking his head and pressing his hand over Tony's. "You just gotta do your best every moment and not worry about how things could go wrong, because they _will_ go wrong. But you can't account for all of them and still _function._"

"That's the thing, though, that's what you never seem to get. I _can._ I've got probabilities run on every piece of tech, now, before I let it out of my hands. What's the worst that could happen And I always know. How bad it could go and how likely it is and what I'd have to do to get it back."

"That's... Tony. Sometimes you need to trust people. Some things, you can let go."

"That's not how it works. _I don't let it out of my hands unless I know I can get it back._ Not anymore."

"That's not always _your_ job to do alone, Tony. We've all got to have a hand in saving the world, or it won't work. You're not infallible. You can't do this by yourself, and you don't have to. I thought we covered this."

"I am, though. I have to be. Don't you get that? These things I make, they're... I am a god. They're part of me and the more of it I give away the bigger I get, the more spread out I get. Because no one else knows this stuff, down to the last circuit, line of code, graphite lubricated microjoint. I'm the only one who can do what has to be done, and the more I give away, the more I've got to do."

"Tony..." Rhodey sighed, hand still over Tony's, but still now. "You're not a god."

"You ever wonder why Mr. Sufficiently Advanced and Company use hammers and swords, why the most advanced weapons we've seen from them clearly have minds of their own?"

"Thor?" Rhodey asked. "I'd kinda assumed there was a lot of tradition involved. He sticks with the weapon he's used to. I probably would too, after a thousand years or so. But he's not a god either. There's no such thing."

"Exactly! He _knows_ that thing. He knows its capabilities down to the last iota of... whatever arcane science mojo it runs on, as much as he can. But it's too complex for him to know entirely, and if you've read the briefs on New Mexico, you know it's got something else controlling it, either some kind of AI or some puppetmaster shit with Daddy Dearest micromanaging his pet crown prince. Because somebody's got to know the tech, down to the last quirk, the last little possibly-exploitable loophole, someone's gotta be keeping track, because if you don't learn it first the enemy will, and when that happens?" Tony thrust his fingers at the screen, where they were showing footage of one of the 'carriers listing slowly, heavily, and cutting into the structure of the Triskelion. "That's when you've lost."

Rhodey shook his head again. "It wasn't your tech that did that, Tony. They could just have easily outfitted those things with the same turbines from the original."

"That isn't the point." Tony grimaced, making a noise of frustration through his teeth. "You know how many people have tried to reverse engineer the suits, the reactors, hell, some of the old tech from the missiles. It isn't about what I actually make, who I actually give it to. The problem is, once it's out there at all, once it goes past the point where I can control all the flow of information, it changes things. The problem is, I am a god." He spat out a sharp, horribly dark laugh. "Much as I hate the idea."

Rhodey let out a breath, exasperation and confusion and helplessness all warring for the forefront of his attention. "I don't know what to say to that, Tony. All I know is I get a job, I do it to the best of my ability. And it's not any one person's job to make sure the world runs smoothly. You're not all-powerful, and you can't take all this on yourself. You have to draw the line somewhere."

Tony breathed as well, huge and somewhat shaky, but no longer panicked and too fast. "Well, then, the problem is, I don't know how to be just a normal person. Where to draw the line."

Rhodey had to laugh, just a little. "Oh, you'll never be normal," he told his friend. "Not in a million years. But you don't have to be everything, either. Okay?"

"Still figuring that out," Tony said. "Kinda goes along with the part where my dad was an idiot. Learning's easy. Unlearning's a bitch."

"Yeah," Rhodey said. "Yeah, I can see that."

He still had a lot of unlearning to do when it came to Tony, what he was really like and why.


	7. Allspeak's Revelations

**Allspeak's Revelations**

_Loki Hears, Loki Sees, Loki Speaks, Part 1 - To the average user of Allspeak, it provides a flat translation - it maps the words onto the hearer's worldview, and if the meaning isn't translatable to that worldview, they simply hear an unfamiliar word. To a true student of magic, of Allspeak and the related mechanics of surface telepathy, someone who understands what Allspeak actually is, it's a whole different experience._

It's a wonder, really, that Thor manages to bumble through his brief exile to Earth, making himself understood well enough to gain not just the sympathies, but also the affection, of an otherwise seemingly fairly intelligent human woman.

He'd seemed incapable of listening. He didn't hear the weight of the oaths of kingship he swore, ignored the reasons Odin gave him for maintaining peace. He hadn't even seemed to hear the grief in Laufey's voice, the helpless exhaustion that underlay the burning hate.

* * *

><p>It's soon after that, after Loki learns how different he really is from those who surround him, how alien to their world, that he wonders if any of them are capable of listening, truly, closely, the way Loki does, or if it is actually a skill beyond their capacity.<p>

* * *

><p>Here's the thing about Allspeak.<p>

To the average user of Allspeak, it provides a flat translation - it maps the words onto the hearer's worldview, and if the meaning isn't translatable to that worldview, they simply hear an unfamiliar word.

To a true student of magic, of Allspeak and the related mechanics of surface telepathy, someone who understands what Allspeak actually _is,_ it's a whole different experience.

If you open your mind, listen closely, there's so much more to be gained. The result is something like an accent, but more like a rich profile of color that spreads out under their tone of voice - like harmony to the melody of the base translation.

Odin's voice is a heavy chant, deep with history and the knowledge that all of Asgard falls into line with his words. It brooks no disagreement; it has no harmony, but merely reinforces itself endlessly, layer upon layer of the same tone. One simply has to get used to it, because there is no other choice.

Frigga's words are feathery, soft and yet tricky, always trying to slide between the two sides of disagreements, find the middle ground. Loki has always found it soothing on its own, but vaguely unreassuring when heard in concert with someone he disagrees with.

Thor... Thor, more often than not, sounds like nothing more than an enthusiastically out-of-tune drinking ballad. It pains Loki to hear how it jangles with itself, the ideas Thor has heard and repeated with the values that are at the heart of his nature.

Loki likes his brother, but he is as dumb as a brick and cannot be allowed to rule Asgard.

Loki knows how much words give away, if the right person is listening, and so he often chooses silence, in favor of being uncovered that way. When he does speak, it's careful, noncommital, slippery. It gets him out of a lot of things, but it also leads people to mistrust him, to believe him some kind of liar even though, so much of the time, he's not.

He isn't sure how much is cause and how much effect, because this has been true as long as he can remember. When Odin speaks to him, when Frigga speaks to him, and especially when Heimdall speaks to him, there is an undertone of suspicion, of wariness and dislike.

It is the nature of things. He is the Trickster, the Silvertongue. It has always been so, and it always will be so.

And in the minds of most people on Asgard, there is no reason at all to ask, _Why?_

* * *

><p>Should he even have bothered to hide his intentions, to listen to the underlying meaning of these Aesir's words? Or would it have been better to counterfeit their blunt force of manner from the beginning? Pretend to be as deaf as they, take their words at face value?<p>

This, he contemplates as he sits upon the throne, holds Gungnir, that focus of undeniable, echoing authority.

As he sits in Odin's place, he thinks now might be the time to try.

But, inevitably, he fails. Loki was never meant to be Aesir. No one believes in his right to this place. That he is truly one of them.

From there, Loki's life spirals out, spirals down, in increasingly desperate attempts to _fix everything._ Find a place. Gain Odin's trust, and so Asgard's, or die 'nobly' trying.

Nobility is one of the most nonsensical, hypocritical concepts ever to grace the realms, and it ever eludes Loki's slippery fingers.

He stops trying. Gungnir escapes his grasp. It's for the best.

* * *

><p>Thanos breaks him, bends him, twists him backwards in time to a point where he strove for something, where he had an exploitable goal. To be like the Aesir, to wield blunt power like a hammer, to hear his words echo out through an unprotesting audience. To be the one whose word is law. Thanos needs him wanting, needs him striving. Not, as he was found, empty.<p>

So Thanos finds that abandoned drive to rule, to be an Aesir and king, and he pulls it out with pain and magic.

Thanos's words are drenched in the magic that surrounds the line between life and death. He is obsessed. He is warped. Loki can hear the madness, and - he almost can't help but laugh at the irony - that madness is a mindset that Loki finds it much simpler to slip into, to imitate.

And then Loki sees it, he sees the joke, the terrible prank the universe has been playing on him all this time.

Because from the perspective of Thanos's madness, his disproportionate view of his own importance, his denial of the validity of any other perspective - from here, Loki can finally see the steps to Odin's throne, the stroll into irrationality required to become a tyrant like the Allfather.

It's all right there in front of him now. Thanos has broken him open and made his path clear. All there is to do now, Loki thinks, is follow it.

* * *

><p>"Make a move, Reindeer Games."<p>

Five words, simple on the surface, but they explode and fill Loki's brain with everything that's behind them, everything that's being packed into them. Tactical decisions, a dare - he isn't eager for a fight, but he is angry, and he would enjoy it to an extent. And the nickname, a play on the horns, obviously - a very old theme - but there's something else. A story, some kind of entertainment, with a central character who lies quick and easy and sly, who does what he has to and gets in trouble for it. Who can't seem to avoid chaos.

The density of those thoughts - just the projected, surface thoughts that Allspeak grants access to - the density of them is staggering.

The man knows he's throwing out only vague crystalline approximations, likely truly clear to no one but himself. But with the contextual richness of Loki's ear for Allspeak - it's like listening to a full orchestra, to a _symphony_ of rhythm and movement and tones and harmonies. The words - the melody - they're only the beginning.

Loki wants. He longs to hear more.

And there's a freshness to the way the man speaks, a barrier-breaking lack of assumptions, that wakes Loki's brain and asks it to _think free_ again. To reconsider everything he knows. It's like he's been splashed with water, woken suddenly from a daze.

Everything he's done, he sees from a new angle, sees what could have been, sees how many other possibilities there are outside of the Aesir way of thinking, or Thanos's madness.

His plans, his purposes, his intentions all break apart and begin to re-form themselves, somewhere in that period of time where they walk him onto their aircraft and begin their journey to the place where they will, most probably, torture him in order to find where he has hidden the cube that everyone is so fascinated with.

Having something new to want, to strive for, allows him to step outside of the cage that Thanos had built in his brain. To plot new goals, new means, new deceptions. To be himself again - or, perhaps, for the first time. The first time in his long life.

He needs time to consider, to absorb all this newness.

Luckily enough, his plan up to this point had already involved surrendering to the good heroes of Earth, going with them to their base. He listens. He listens, as close as he can, to the Man of Iron.

* * *

><p>It's both worrying and disorienting to be facing Thor again, but he should have - and did - anticipate it. He did not expect to be involved in a radical reshuffling of his personal inventory at the time.<p>

Thor is as always blunt and guileless, and Loki can't resist playing his foil.

"You think yourself above them?" Thor asks, and Loki nearly bursts into laughter.

"Well, yes." Loki wonders if Thor has ever actually managed to _listen_ when the Allfather talks, even to the surface meaning, or have _any meaningful thought at all_ about what those lessons implied. The Aesir are the guardians of the Realms. They must, logically, know better than the rest what is good for them.

"Then you miss the truth of ruling, Brother. The throne would suit you ill."

Loki's rage surges. Of course he would see the truth of that _now._ Not sooner. Not when it could have done some _good._ Loki's had to learn the hard way that there's no place for him in Asgard.

But now Thor's wise somehow. There's weight behind his words as there never has been before, weight of experience, of knowledge. He's beginning to sound like his father, and Loki calls his brother Odinson with a sneer and thinks of the things he's learned in the meantime, the things he's gained - the crazed, irrational side of Odin, apparently, but Loki can't exactly help that now.

Thor needs to stay far away from him if they are to have someone better on the throne when the mad Allfather leaves it for the last time. Loki wards him away.

Thor still wants to welcome him back, and Loki aches at the impossibility of it.

* * *

><p>The Man of Iron buys him a chance to escape (albeit unintentionally), but Loki decides he needs to learn more, wait it out until he can see the fruit of his original plan, and start clean with nothing major in play. And so he listens.<p>

Nicholas Fury is a madman as well, but thankfully not quite on the same scale as the others Loki's encountered. He thinks he knows best and should hold all the secrets. He shouldn't be terribly difficult to mislead.

Natasha's words are as slippery as his, her context as alien to the rest of her team as Loki's to the Three. Loki lets himself get distracted examining that, examining how she can be so loyal to Barton, given their differences.

And while he's studying that, she gets what she's looking for. Learns an element of his plans.

Loki's beginning to toy with the idea that these heroes could win. Wipe out the Chitauri army. Turn the tide against those who had broken Loki and who would use the Tesseract for near-infinite destruction.

A new plan is forming in his mind.

He still needs to get out of the Helicarrier to enact it. He's still fighting to clear his head, regain (or find for the first time) his sanity. But he spares a moment to hope that Tony Stark survives the coming fight.

* * *

><p>Loki sets an irresistible trap.<p>

This is Stark's home, where he makes and keeps his armors, Barton's told him. He'll come, if no one else does. And Loki does not doubt that the man who thinks with the force of a whirlwind but the delicacy and precision of an elven flute player is the man he wants facing off against the Chitauri, if he wishes them all slaughtered. And he does. He would like that very much.

He comes in, armorless. Loki is fascinated. They play, they flyte. Loki wants to know who will win. Tony Stark tells him. Tony Stark walks right up to him, unafraid.

But Loki is afraid. Loki is afraid he's wrong, that Tony and his Avengers will lose, that Thanos and his army are too much for any group Earth can muster. And Loki is afraid that if he doesn't fight hard enough, doesn't make the obvious move, that Thanos will still win, and Thanos will find Loki, and take away everything that he is, everything that he has been, everything that he now has a chance to become.

So he makes the obvious move, and tries to turn Tony. Although it sickens him to think of the possible results.

But the Tesseract will not take him. Cannot. Resistance, defiance. Mocking, heedless humor. The madness still has part of Loki and in his rage, he tosses Tony Stark away like a filthy rag.

When Tony survives, and regains his tactical advantage, Loki is back to himself enough to be glad.

To hear the man speak is an experience he would not want to lose.

Honesty. Clear and pure and almost accentless, and yet playing in idiom and reference as if it's a sandbox. Language that changes along with context, reevaluates and sidesteps the limitations of the spoken word.

Not as skilled, perhaps, at communication or manipulation as Loki. But to someone who can listen... it teaches, it changes, it breaks boundaries. It frames and sweeps aside new perspectives with every phrase.

Loki only wishes he had the leisure to listen at length. But the war has come.

Thor still believes they can stop this. Loki hopes he's right. But there's still part of his mind screaming that he's meant to rule, he's learned, he can do it. Thor wants him to come home as an ally.

Thor has too much faith in him. Maybe someday, he can be a hero, but today, he would be terrible for Thor. Thor needs to be kept safe from the madness that infects Loki.

Tears streaming down his face, Loki stabs Thor.

Just deep enough to warn him away, to make him give up and turn his attention to the Chitauri.

* * *

><p>The battle is won, and Loki lingers as long as he can in Stark's residence, drinking the man's alcohol and listening to him speak. Willing his own muddy, rutted and battle-scarred mind to be cleansed, to become without lasting context like this. To learn to remake itself over and over in an unending struggle for clarity.<p>

Loki is...not exactly content to go home a prisoner, but it is better than many of the other options he might have had.

If he has an opportunity, he will speak to the Allfather, try to get him to see his own hipocrisy and inflexibility. Now that he has some traction, a long enough lever and somewhere to stand.

He doubts it will work. But for the first time in Loki's long life...

Anything seems possible.


	8. Undercurrents

**Undercurrents**

_Loki Hears, Loki Sees, Loki Speaks, part 2 - Loki hears much more in people's words than the average Aesir. And he knows this. But he's still finding it difficult to accept._

All Loki wants is to change the world.

Asgard is stale, it is broken, it is weak, and as it is, it cannot last. Loki sees that now. Loki hears that in the hollow, retreaded lines spoken around him.

They do not question. They do not _think._ They cannot adapt. They are as unprepared for this new era in the Realms as Earth, perhaps moreso. Earth, at least, can change more quickly.

And Loki thinks it likely that he has one chance to convince Asgard's rulers that change is necessary, before he is locked away forever, or at least locked away until disaster falls down around the Aesir's ears.

And he has never been able to get them to listen... _truly_ listen.

The jangle of his chains is the first undercurrent, and the loudest. It sets the tone for the rest. He does nothing to mute or minimize the sound, but jangles the chains intentionally. Not everyone here is reassured by their presence, by what they mean.

"Hello, Mother. Have I made you proud?" _I know you are conflicted about this. Tell me what you're thinking._

"Please, don't make this worse." _I fear there is only so much I can do for you._

"Define worse." _I know how grave the consequences of my actions may be. Tell me something meaningful, tell me you __**understand**__ what's at stake here. Tell me you are not as blind as the Allfather._

The Allfather interrups rather hastily. "Enough! I will speak to the prisoner alone." _There will be no voice to oppose mine, no ears to hear your subversion._

Loki speaks to the Allfather flippantly, daring him to explain what is so wrong with being a mad, conquering tyrant.

Odin, as always, disappoints, continuing forward on his prescribed track. "Wherever you go, there is war, ruin and death." _The bad kind._

"I went to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god. Just like you." _Please! See your hipocrisy! Open your eyes! Apply your standards to yourself!_

"We are not gods." _We are humble. You are humble. Understand your place._

Loki sees that Odin has blinded himself, like a horse in a city, unable to focus without blinders, able to see only the path that continues straight ahead. This is a new universe, and Odin is far from fit to rule it.

_And yet you always speak of the brevity of mortal lives._ "Give or take five thousand years."

The blinders do their work, and the point passes Odin by. He forges ahead. "All this because Loki desires a throne."

"It is my birthright!" _If your word was worth anything, I would have had an equal chance with Thor, in your eyes!_

"Your birthright was to die!" _You are only here because I wished you to be. You owe me everything. Therefore you are mine to do whatever I please with._

_Finally! I knew in my gut, in my throat, with a bitterness learned over long centuries, that you thought this all along. And yet you used me. Please stop. Please stop lying and lying and lying and tell me what it is you want of me._ "If I am for the axe then for mercy's sake just... swing it."

There is a pause for that to be absorbed, but Odin seems unmoved. And there is ever more proof. This man never loved him.

"It's not that I don't love our little talks," Loki says, imbuing the words with all the delightfully dark enjoyment he gets out of running mental circles around everyone else in this dark little corner of the universe, "it's just..." and he attempts for once to sound serious, to convey his exhaustion, his deep sorrow with the unchanging way of things here. "...I don't love them." _Can you hear me at all? Testing, testing. Do you have the sense required to hear when someone is speaking what you do not think?_

Odin speaks again. _I will take away everything that ever brought you joy,_ is what he says. _I will put you away where no one can hear your voice. What I want of you is to vanish, to be forgotten. Like all the errors of the kings of Asgard._

Of course. "And what of Thor? You'll make that witless oaf king while I rot in chains?" _You think he will forget me as easily as you? You'll trust him, after all the times he's fallen for my tricks? For my false self, his adoring brother?_

"Thor must strive to undo the damage you have done; he will bring order to the Nine Realms." _I will keep him distracted._

There is that, at least. Thor can only benefit from being given experience, rather than counsel. Experience is good for Thor. Experience gave him his newfound wisdom. And at least in this, they both agree. That Thor must not be compromised by insane, duplicitous, power-grabbing people, no matter how close their family ties.

It's just that in Loki's case, that means Odin.

"And then? Yes. He will be king."

Loki lets the Allfather have that as his last word, as it is perhaps the least selfish thing the man has said all day, and goes to his cell without further complaint, to await the chaos he could not stop.

* * *

><p>Good fortune comes to Loki, or as close as it gets, nowadays. His mother comes to visit him in his cell. He has a second chance.<p>

He comments on what he knows of current events, and Frigga asks if his books do not occupy him.

He asks her, "Is that how I'm to while away eternity, reading?" _There is so much more I need to do. So much wrong with the Realms. And you think books should be enough to distract me from that?_

Frigga ignores that; perhaps she, too, sees it as madness, after all. "I've done everything in my power to make you comfortable, Loki." There is no more meaning than that in her words. She is tired.

"Have you? Does Odin share your concern? Does Thor? It must be so inconvenient, them asking after me day and night." _Can you not see the signs, the facts before you that if I was ever to have a chance here in Asgard, I would need them to attend to me much more than they do? But they lock me away and ignore me. How can you insist that I was ever truly family to them?_

For once, Frigga replies to the heart, to the unasked questions. She, at least, attends. But the content is less encouraging. "You know full well that it is your actions that put you here." _You deserve this. This is just. They are justified._

"My actions? I was merely giving truth to the lie that I've been fed my entire life, that I was born to be a king." _As ridiculous as that is. Can you not see the nonsense and hipocrisy I've been steeped in?_

But the answer he gets is only an echo of Odin. "A king? A true king admits his faults. What of the lives you took on Earth?"

Blind. Blind, and blindered like her husband. Seeing Loki's faults only because he stands in their way, but blind to their own and each other's.

"A mere handful compared to the numbers Odin has taken himself." _Please, open your eyes._

"Your father..." _The one who took you in..._ And that cannot stand.

"He's not my father!" _I owe him nothing and I wish to be nothing like him! Do not tie us so!_

"Then am I not your mother?" _I am nothing if not his queen._

_That is low, Mother. You knew it would hurt. I did grow up at your knee. That is where I first learned to twist words around on people but now you are twisting them around on me, trying to get me to admit that I am wrong and Odin is right. You do not truly see me as I am, care about the person behind the princely facade you so carefully constructed._ "You are not."

The moment he said it he tasted it and it was bitter. She was the only one who'd truly tried; she'd come the closest. she'd taught him magic despite the implications of seidr, because she sensed he would love it.

"Always so perceptive, about everyone but yourself." _You only hurt yourself by struggling. I wish you would stop._

_Mother. Mother. Mother. When was I ever not going to hurt?_

Loki feels trapped. Loki feels more truly trapped by her than he has by anyone else.

* * *

><p>And disaster comes down around the ears of the Aesir.<p>

And terrible truth rings in the guard's words when he comes to tell Loki that the queen is dead.

He has failed. He has only one more thing left to salvage.

Ah, yes. Thor. The boy who ran beside him now strides, solemn, to his cell.

Loki _will not fail again._

He hides his insanity. Thor does not need to see it. He asks why Thor is here.

"No more illusions," Thor insists. _You are not so composed._

_Wisdom. It constantly surprises me when it comes out of your mouth. You've learned so much._ "Now you see me, Brother."

Loki knows the dangers of failing to listen. He listens to Thor as they discuss what is to be done.

What Thor says is this: "You should know that when we fought each other in the past, I did so with the glimmer of hope that my brother was still in there somewhere. That hope no longer exists to protect you."

Loki only smiles to hear that. _Good. I am not what they sold to you as a loyal younger brother. I have no argument with your having grown suspicious._ "When do we start?"

* * *

><p>Loki delights in Thor's newfound sense of secrecy, stealth and deception. But of course he plays with it, as he had every other of his brother's traits in turn.<p>

_Is it my turn to play the blunt instrument, then?_ "I can feel the righteousness surging."

Loki gets slammed against a wall for his trouble, but he feels better, having done his mocking part.

* * *

><p>Evidently Thor is just as idiotic about some things as ever, and their ship is being shot at, and the plan is doomed. Evidently Loki still needs to be the brains of every operation they're involved in, but, as ever, Thor won't trust him to be, so he is left yelling at Thor for having a skull as thick as a brick. "Brilliant, Thor, truly brilliant!" <em>I'd hoped you would have learned to see reckless folly when it - <em>_**oof.**_

He did not expect Thor to toss him out of the Dokkalfar ship. He did not expect to land on a smaller, nimbler Aesir one. He did not expect Thor to follow with Jane as though this had been the plan all along.

Perhaps he should have.

"You lied to me." _You fooled me. Wisdom upon wisdom, making use of the image of yourself as an oaf._ "I'm impressed."

"I'm glad you're pleased."

And the strange thing is, behind the crown prince's veneer of sarcasm, Loki could believe he actually is.

Loki steers them towards Svartalfheim.

"Are you mad?" Thor asks as the little ship hurtles towards the gateway. And, yes, the maneuver does require a certain amount of finesse, probably beyond most Aesir's ability.

"Possibly!" _Not everyone can see the subtleties necessary. If 'mad' means seeing the world differently than the Aesir... then, yes._

But the important thing is that they get through safe into Svartalfheim... if Svartalfheim could ever be considered 'safe.'

* * *

><p>Loki can see the way the Aether eats away at the mortal woman. Loki knows well how his brother prizes her. The idea of caring so much for a mortal... disturbs Loki.<p>

"This day, the next, a hundred years is nothing. It's a heartbeat. You'll never be ready. The only woman whose love you prised will be snatched from you." _If it were me... my sanity would not survive. Are you blind to consequences, Thor? Do you hold the same stubborn stupidity as the Allfather?_

"Then will you be satisfied?" _I know. Must you remind me?_

"Satisfaction is not in my nature." _It doesn't please me that the world is cruel, but the fact remains._

"Surrender's not in mine." _I will do what it takes to provide her with as much time as possible. And my power is great._

"The son of Odin." _Marching only forward, not heeding the cost, not examining the complexities. Of course._

"No, not just of Odin! You think it was you alone who loved Mother? You had her tricks, but I had her trust!" _I am not the only one here who carries some part of what she was. She had faith in people, in her place in the Realms. I trust that the world is not so cruel, that I will find a way._

Loki laughs darkly. "Trust. Was that her last expression? Trust? When you let her die!" _Trust is idiotic. Death comes, sooner or later, and most times too soon. Especially if you march blindly forward to battle without __**thinking!**_

But it seems Thor does not take his point. If something goes wrong in Asgard, it must, of course, be Loki's fault, and none of their own. He should be used to this.

"What help were you in your cell?" the prince accuses.

And it degrades into a pointless shouting match, with a high chance of shoving as well. Nothing will get done now, Loki thinks. They are too stubborn.

So he is pleasantly surprised when Thor breaks off with the realization, "She wouldn't want us to fight."

"Well, she wouldn't exactly be shocked." Loki uses humor to cement the cessation of hostilities.

The thickness of Thor's vice surprises Loki as he says, "I wish I could trust you." _I miss the times when I thought of you as dependable._

_I was never dependable. Brother, perhaps you are at the point where you may truly learn this. Trust is not about a single vector, some ideal of nobility. Trust is about accepting things for what they truly are, darkness and all. Trust is about examining the possibilities, thinking for yourself, and trusting your own judgement. Trust the things that are consistently ignoble, as well as the things that seem noble._ "Trust my rage."

And that is the point they build on, when they make their plan.

* * *

><p>The key to a good lie is to keep it simple, keep it close to the truth.<p>

Loki knows this well and deeply, how he can keep his surface voice honest and keep the lie to the undertones. But people no longer expect him to be honest. They expect darkness, they expect deceit.

Another way to lie effectively is to play to people's expectations.

Loki hurts Thor, and tosses him down to the ground.

"You really think I cared, about Frigga? About anybody?" _When trying to leave an impression so laughably far from the truth, phrasing your assertion as a question is incredibly helpful._ "All I ever wanted was you and Odin dead at my feet!" _Dead is perhaps an exaggeration. Perhaps. For one of you._

"Malekith, I am Loki of Jotunheim and I bring you a gift!" _A poisoned morsel worthy of your poisonous heart._ "I ask only one thing in return: a good seat from which to watch Asgard burn!" _Burn and spring up anew. I fervently hope._

The lie works. The plan as a whole, not as much.

Getting stabbed was never part of the plan. But it does prove opportune for placing that grenade.

Loki isn't going to be much use in the rest of this battle. Thor needs to leave him here. But the oaf seems still inextricably attached to him.

That has to stop.

"I'll tell Father what you did here today," Thor tells him. _You still have a place on Asgard, if I have anything to say about it._

"I didn't do it for him." _I did it for everyone __**but**__ him. ...And I really don't._

Now is the time to free Thor of the insanity of his brother, to let him continue on the path he has very well begun.

Loki slumps back and lets his heart rate slow, slips into that near-death state he explored as a guest of Thanos, and before, in the cold of the Void. He can live through more than he ever wanted to live through, he knows that now. Perhaps this hibernation is inborn in Jotunn to wait out the cold of their world.

His pulse slows to near-nonexistence. His perceptions fade. He truly does not know whether he expects to wake.

* * *

><p>But he does wake.<p>

There is one clear thing he must do, to finish the business of Loki, prince of Asgard.

One final lie. One final test. "We found a body," he tells Odin. _I found it. It's mine. I'm alive._

"Loki." _Loki. I hear you there behind that mask._

But it's much too late for that realization to mean anything, Loki thinks. The throne cannot be left to someone so obtuse. Loki realizes that, at last, he is in a position to do something about it.

And he smiles.


	9. Death of a Monarchy

**Death of a Monarchy**

_Loki Hears, Loki Sees, Loki Speaks, Part 3 - Heimdall was, after all, a traitor to the throne many times over._

"I know you're there," Heimdall said to the sound of shoe leather rubbing against the Bifrost.

"Only because I want you to," Loki replied, appearing near him, but out of reach. "The invisibility is merely for the benefit of others. I don't wish anyone else to know I'm alive, not just yet."

Heimdall frowned. "And yet you would reveal yourself to me? Why?"

"I thought we should have a conversation about what would be in the best interests of Asgard," said Loki. "With Thor on Earth, Frigga gone, and Odin aged and so deeply asleep that he may be better off sent to join her, there is no king in residence, no regent, no figure the realm might turn to."

"Except you, do you mean?" Heimdall asked, quietly but with a dangerous rumble.

Loki laughed bitterly. "Asgard will never look to me as a rightful king, not now. I know that very well." He turned, pacing, hands behind his back. "But who is there? Tell me, Heimdall. Who would you, and all of Asgard, pledge yourself to now? You understand now, surely, that the descendants of Borr cannot be trusted with the throne of Asgard? That however noble they may sometimes seem, their flaws are unpredictable, and fatal?"

"They are blinded by the seeming importance of their own loves and their own losses," Heimdall agreed, but then his eyes narrowed as he looked at Loki. "What alternative do you suggest?" he asked, leaving off any form of address that could be used as a clue to his attitude towards the sorcerer at the moment.

Loki returned the assessing look. "I know you," Loki said. "I know that you have knowledge, and power, and _leverage,_ that surpass even mine, and that you will use it however you see fit to protect Asgard, no matter who your king or what their command. The king should fear you. The whole of Asgard should fear you. And, Gatekeeper, I throw myself upon your mercy. There is no stable throne of Asgard without you standing behind it, and so your word is law."

Heimdall blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Are you telling me that I ought to take the throne myself?"

"I am telling you, O All-Seeing Heimdall, that if you sought the throne, I would support you in any way that I could."

Heimdall laughed dryly. "Your support, I think, would do more to hurt than to help my claim."

"In _any_ way that I could," Loki repeated with greater emphasis, and his features sparkled and shifted, until it was the Allfather standing before the Gatekeeper, shining eyepatch and great red-purple cloak and grizzled hair. It was an illusion perfect in every way; Heimdall would hardly have seen, even with his magic eyes, if he had not already known that the Allfather was in deep Odinsleep in his own chambers.

Heimdall carefully regarded the figure in front of him, the figure of a king offering up his throne.

"I have no desire to rule Asgard," the gatekeeper said at last.

Loki laughed this time. "That is because you know the futility of the appearance of power," he commented. "How many worlds under your watch, how many rulers, how many kings, presidents, emperors, how many lives of public power do your eyes have windows into?"

"Tens of thousands," Heimdall answered.

"And out of them, how many sleep well? How many are happy? How many go to bed each night satisfied with the work they have done and the welfare of their subjects?"

"A handful," Heimdall answered. "None who are sane."

This prompted another laugh from the disguised Loki, one, in fact, that was all too much like a sob. "That in no way surprises me, Heimdall."

Heimdall's eyes were thoughtful; Loki almost fooled himself into thinking they even contained a hint of softness, of concern.

"There is much in your life that has been unfortunate," Heimdall said. "Some of your doing, others not. There are as many ways to judge a man's crimes as there are worlds with men on them. Perhaps some are better ways than others, I know not. But your crimes - treason, warfare, deceit - I cannot stand in judgement over you for those things that I have also done. I have seen you give much for the safety of Asgard and the Realms under its protection. You are not my enemy. There is only one person left who has any authority to judge you for your actions, and that is Thor."

The puppet-Odin nodded. "I will keep this charade only long enough to give the throne over to Thor with a minimum of chaos," he told the gatekeeper. "After that, I will abide by his judgement. He is, after all, my brother, and he is sometimes not completely without wisdom."

"But even those greatest pillars of society are not infallible," Heimdall replied. "They have their blind spots, especially for each other. Thor once told Odin that there would never be a wiser king than him. It is our place, as watchers, to intervene when we feel it is necessary."

"Perhaps," said Loki, with a sly smile that looked just this side of eerie on Odin's face, "we should, from now on, confer before intervening."

Heimdall nodded, regreful humor coloring his expression of agreement.

* * *

><p>Loki fully expected to be handing Gungnir to his brother with a significant measure of relief, and confessing everything. But Thor said the most interesting things when he thought he was talking to his father.<p>

Things like the fact that he judged Loki a better fit for the throne than himself. Like his intention to return to Earth, to give up his place on that throne, that Thor might live a better life.

Well, who was Loki to thwart the will of the heir to Asgard's throne? For the moment after Thor walked out of the hall, Loki felt justified in his deceit, even gleeful at the compliments his brother had paid him. For a moment, the throne felt right under him.

But the moment didn't last, and Loki began to feel at a loss, and sought out Heimdall.

"What now?" was all he said, at first. He watched the gatekeeper digest the situation.

"If I have any loyalty left to Borr's lineage," Heimdall said, "it would lead me to accept Thor's defense of you and your wisdom on the subject of what it means to rule. I swear myself in defense of Asgard, my king." Heimdall bowed his great head.

Loki stared. Then he shook his head forcefully.

"The throne of Asgard sits empty," he told the gatekeeper. "Only a ghost inhabits it now. But the true power of Asgard rests where it always has. In the hands of those insightful enough to see what must be done."

He held out a hand to the gatekeeper, in the manner of human businessmen, in the manner of new partners.

Heimdall looked at the offered hand, considered, then reached out and shook it firmly.

The monarchy of Asgard was dead.


End file.
